


Uncontrolled and Not Ashamed

by mizufallsfromkumo



Category: Common Law
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Assassins & Hitmen, Breaking and Entering, Drug Dealing, Gang Leader!Travis, Gangs, Hitman!Wes, M/M, Mentions of Graceland characters, Non-Graphic Violence, Sexual Content, Snipers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizufallsfromkumo/pseuds/mizufallsfromkumo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Travis Marks is the leader of the Fosters Gang in LA.  They are know for smuggling and selling drugs and weapons, as well as committing major crimes and murders.  Wesley Mitchell is an ex(rogue)-CIA agent, who became a gun for hire.  He's good to, people will pay top dollar to hire him.  The two meet when Wes is hired to kill Travis.  The rest is history and the pair causing quiet a few problems for lovely city of  Los Angeles and the federal government alike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I have committed myself to this now. It's going to be long and I'll probably get frustrated, but I will make it happen if it kills me. My plan is to have it be a two-shot, this and then a very, very long part. But I figured this would explain some things.
> 
> Enjoy!

The suppressor screws into place with ease, nothing more than the sound of metal spinning into place.  _Everything_ slides into place, all making the pleasant clicks that they’re in place and ready to go.  It all settles nicely on the roof top as well.  There is nothing more satisfying than that.  Wes doesn’t care what anyone tells him, there is just something about reconstructing a sniper rifle, it didn’t matter what it was, though he preferred a Barrett M107.

He peers through the scope and takes aim.  His target was leaning back on their couch, probably watching mindless late night, completely unaware of Wes’ presence on the opposite roof top.  He frowned; it looked like this was going to be an easy pay day.  Wes hates sniper hits.  Granted they come with a nice price tag for the amount of additional work and timing.  But they’re easy, he utterly hates them.  There is no chase, no fight.  It’s just a squeeze of the trigger and he’s gone in the night.  Very few targets actually sense something is amiss, paranoid targets are the best.

Wes had actually thought this Marks guy would be one to notice him.  From what Wes had observed in his tracking, the guy was a criminal genius.  He was five steps ahead of his completion, and two good ones ahead of the FBI.  Wes almost felt a little bad he was paid to waste the guy, and he could see what his client wanted him out of the game.   Still, maybe he shouldn’t look a gifted horse in the mouth so much.  He easily has six months’ rent and then some for doing this.

Giving a small grunt of dissatisfaction to the air around him, Wes flicked off the safety.  He took aim and fired.  The glass shattered and a pill seemed to explode, yet Marks was nowhere to be seen. 

“Shit!”  Wes cursed, peeling away from the scope.

Marks had moved at the last second and caused Wes to miss and blow his silent attempts at murder.  He knew Marks wasn’t stupid, the man was going to make a run for it, or maybe stand his ground.  Either way, Wes has to still make sure he’s handled.  Maybe Marks would be a reasonable hit for his money. 

Wes tried not to grin too much as he threw a tarp over his weapon and supplies.  He took to the fire escape of the building he was on as quickly as possible.  He couldn’t let Marks slip away.  Especially not when he has half of his pay in the bank.  He hopped off the fire escape and landed with a loud thud on a dumpster before rolling off.  He stormed his way across the street, hardly being mindful of the lazy late night traffic.  A few horns blare at him, but he doesn’t even spare them a glance, he’s ran through worse traffic for more pressing issues.

He glided into the parking lot of under Marks’ apartment building.  Unzipping his dark coat and pulling out his SR40 pistol from its holster under his arm.  He flicked the safety off and cocked it, holding it tight.  Wes eased up to Marks’ motorcycle, checking to see if his insurance was still in place from earlier.  The small bomb was still there, tucked behind the tail pipe and out of sight.  However the some of the wires had been severed, and from what Wes could see the small signal receiver had been destroyed.  Damn, Marks had found that, so he knew someone wanted him dead.  Why hadn’t he acted like he knew?  Maybe he figured it was just a bomb, and the whole attempt was handled, instead of a sniper trying to take him out.

Something presses against the back head, and he could hear the safety slide away.  Wes gave an impressed sigh as he held up his hands.  He has to give Marks some credit, very few people managed to sneak up him like that.  Maybe Wes should try to pull some complications bullshit for a little more pay, because Marks had a bigger price tag on his head than everyone thought.  Wes’ pistol is torn out of his hand, and the magazine easily unloaded, Wes bit back a growl as it clattered on the floor.

“I take it that little toy is yours.”  A voice said behind him, and Wes could almost hear the shit eating grin in it. 

“One of many,” Wes responded. 

Marks made a sound, however he didn’t say anything for a while.  Wes figured he saw no point in asking if it was Wes who tried to shoot him.  After all he probably put two and two together at the sight of Wes squatting by his bike.  “I don’t like people touching my bike.”

“I don’t like people touching my guns.”  Wes shot back, turning his head a bit to glare at Marks.  “I’d say we’re even, no need to make this personal.”

The man gave a breath of a laugh.  “Too late for that,” he responded.  “On your feet,” came an order.  Wes grinned to himself as he slowly rose to his feet, feeling the muzzle of the gun tickling hairs on the back of his head.  He moved to turn around but there was a sharp sound of warning and he stayed put.  “Who hired you?”

“Does it matter?”

“A little.”

“It isn’t anyone in your little pack of strays.  I tend to stay out of political entanglements.”  Wes said, grinning a bit at the growl Marks gave at the way Wes referred to his gang.  He pushed the gun a little bit more into Wes’ head, letting the cool metal meet his scalp.  Wes didn’t flinch away.  “Look I don’t care who’s paying, or what they want, just as long as all the money is there when the job is done.”

“Bullshit,” Marks sneered.  “You went through the trouble to planting a bomb on my bike, when you were going to snipe me.  You’re too thorough.”  He paused for a moment, and Wes didn’t take the opportunity to say anything.  Marks took a step back.   “Turn around.”

Wes did as he was told, slowly.  Keeping his hands in the air, and a watchful eye on Marks.  He can’t help but notice Marks it rooted, and his stance is firm, which isn’t a problem, but it’s an opening.  Wes springs into action, grabbing at Marks’ wrist and shoving it out of the way.  He gave a quick blow to the face, before hooking Marks’ leg from behind.    In a matter of seconds Marks’ on the ground groaning and Wes has a knife to his throat.  Marks’ good, but Wes is so much better.  He grinned down at Marks; this was some of the most fun he’s had on hit in a while.

“You think you’re the only one with a knife in his back pocket.”  Marks said with a wide grin, and Wes felt something pushed up against his side. 

Wes glanced down to find Travis pushing a switch blade against his right side.  Okay, maybe Marks was better than Wes thought.  “Damn,” Wes breathed, “it’s been a while since someone be able to manage to keep up with me this well.”  Wes flicked his eyes back to Marks’ who looks like he’s taking the ego bust happily.  “It a shame I have to kill you.”

“You don’t necessarily have to.”  Marks said with a smirk.  “That is, if you want to hear out the deal I to offer.”

Wes grinned, “You’ve earned some moments of my time.”

The man underneath him snorted, before opening his mouth to explain a deal Wes could pass up.  Marks was for sure his favorite hit.


	2. I Get Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six years after their first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA-da! I'm surprised that only took like three days or so. I thought it was going to be super long and take forever. Its long, but not like some I've seen. Anyway enjoy!
> 
> Please ignore the fail sex at the beginning. I don't usually write that stuff often.

Wes stirred at the feeling of someone tracing what felt like a figure eight on the right side of his hip.  The light peeking through the holes and cracks in the blinds wakes up more as it seems to make its goal to hit his eyelids, his shifted away.  His sleepy brain tried to work out what time it was, however it gets easily distracted.  Warm lips on his shoulder and the hand that was tracing figure eights slides down are immediate reasons.  He gave a content hum as the kisses traveled down to the base of his neck and gave an open mouth kiss there.  Wes moved his body just as his partner rolled forward to press their body against his own.  His eyes sprang open and he grinned at the feeling of a very nice wake up call.

“Morning Sleepyhead,” Travis growled in his ear.

“I’d say the same thing, but you don’t feel that sleepy.”  Wes responded with a grin.  Travis chuckled as he dove into his neck again, the morning thickness his shadow of a beard scratching slightly at Wes’ skin.  “Morning to you as well.”  He moaned out.

Travis leaned into Wes more.  Pressing his toned body against Wes’ back, as well as using his hand to push Wes closer.  He felt the darker man’s hand wander down to his thighs, his fingers leaving trails of warmth all the way down.  Wes gave a gasp when his hand suddenly jumped to his hard cock.  He attempted to elbow Travis when he felt the other smirk against his skin, but it only seemed to encourage the man more, leaving Wes moaning at the feeling.  He pushed back into Travis more, enjoying the deep groan that came out of the other’s throat because of it.

“Last night was great,” Travis said, grinding his hips lightly against Wes.  “Just like always.”

Wes grinned at the words.  The night before had been amazing, filled with hot, angry, make-up sex.  They had been in a tiff for a few days before, arguing over some plan Travis had, which had led to a tension that made everyone want to clear the room.  It had snapped the evening before, Wes had thrown a punch and Travis of course had thrown some back.  They sent each other flying through a window before anyone managed to break them up.    They had gone their separate ways, but Wes found himself at Travis’ place, some angry words and some satisfying wall sex, they were uttering apologies and gathering themselves up for another round.

That’s how it always seemed to be.  They would piss each other off, but come back to each other no matter what.  It probably isn’t healthy, but he’s pretty sure a lot of things they do aren’t.  He knows a lot of it is illegal, though.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”  Travis growled into his shoulder.

“Hard not to.”  Wes replied, gasping at the feeling of teeth on his shoulder.  He ground his ass hard against Travis.

The teeth let go of his shoulder, and Travis rolled more of his weight onto Wes, slightly causing Wes to roll onto his stomach.  A snicker is in his ear when Wes gave a bit of a growl at the feeling.  “I was thinking some nice morning sex, then maybe some breakfast in bed.”

“You only how to make bagels.”  Wes shot back as Travis’ hand let him go and let his hand wonder up to the right end of Wes’ hip.

“You and details, Wes, _god_.”  Travis breathed, pushing one of his legs between Wes’ legs. 

He left little room for Wes to argue as he shoved him fully onto his stomach and kissing down his spine.  Wes arched as the darker man’s hands wandered down his back.  He gave Wes a small slap on the ass, grinning at the glare Wes shot at him.  The sound of the lube bottle popping open greets Wes’ ears shortly after Travis’ hands leave his body.  Wes shifts on the sheets slightly.

Travis chuckled as he pressed his body down on Wes’ again.  “Patience, baby.”

Wes doesn’t getting a chance to shoot back that he’s spent hours on hot roof tops waiting for the perfect shot and he has volumes more patience that Travis, because Travis pushes in.  All that comes out is a breath.  Travis nipped at Wes’ ear as he chuckled.  The bastard probably knew he would attempt to say something.

It isn’t long till Travis pulls out just enough only to thrust back in, and keeping a steady enough rhythm.  His left hand keeps Wes’ hips pinned to the bed a bit, while his right hand wandered up to Wes’ on bed, gripping it tightly.  Wes gives a moan, moving his hips to meet and keep time with Travis, sending the two of them into a slow building fury.  God, it’s good and different from the night before.

A knock on the door sounded suddenly, followed by the doorbell.  Travis growled in a miss of frustration and pleasure as he seems to register what it is.  “Expecting someone?”  Wes hardly managed to ask as Travis thrust in just so to give him a wave of pleasure.

“No.”  Travis growled breathlessly in his ear, breath hot as his word.  “Maybe they’ll just go away.”

Wes doubts it, but Travis is moving in such a way, that he can’t really process the fact that he does.  A few moments seemed to pass, before there was another knock on the door and another chiming of the doorbell.   This time slightly more demanding.  The two ignore it again, falling victim to the heat and coiling feeling forming in their lower bodies.  The door sounded like it was rattling as the person knocked yet again, and pressed into the doorbell like they knew Travis was home.  That meant they knew Wes’ car meant something parked outside, so it was someone from the gang.

Travis grumbled to himself.  “Hold on for a fucking minute.”  He shouted, causing Wes to chuckle in-between thrusts and moans.

After that their morning sex seemed to transform into more of a quick fuck.  Still, even that wasn’t horrible; at least they had been nearing the end to begin with.   The climaxed together, the looming house guest at the door had made it a bit quiet and rushed.   Travis flopped on top of Wes panting and hot, but Wes was slightly too tired to care.  He gave a content sigh and Travis rubbed circles with his thumb on Wes’, and grinning on his shoulder.  Part of Wes wished that could happen more often, save the person at the door demanding their attention.

Travis reached around to adjust the sheets on them.  “I should probably let them in now.”  Travis panted slightly as he rested his forehead against Wes’ shoulder and pulled out.  Wes only nodded, his eyes watching Travis thumbs while his left hand inched under the pillows for the gun he kept there, just in case. “Come in.”  The other shouted.

“Already used the spare key, brother.”  A familiar voice said as it neared the doorway of the bedroom.  “I see you two made up.”

Wes grinned as he shifted to peer at the doorway; Travis made a small sounded of protest at the moment, yet did nothing to stop it.  Money was standing there looking as intimating as always.  His large upper body tense, and his tattoos peeking out behind his t-shirt.  His nose wrinkled slightly at the smell of the room; however, it was far from his first time seeing them like that.  He stood there like he meant some serious business, but with a small trace of a smile on his lips.  He’s seen past his distrust of Wes because of Travis’ happiness and the fact that the two worked.

“Don’t we always,” Wes said easily.

Money gave a small snort at the comment.  Sometimes it was hard to believe the man use to hate Wes.   There were a lot of reasons really.  Wes had tried to kill Travis when they first meet, and then he took the gang by storm.  However, the main reason Money hadn’t liked him, was the fact that Wes was just _too_ good and everything he did.  Something about that hadn’t added up for Money, which was smart, and translated government agent for him.  Wes had laughed when Money told him that, and explained he wasn’t on the government’s side anymore; he left after shooting his CIA handler.  However that did not mean he was rogue.  Eventually Wes had earned Money’s trust and respect and got along well enough.

“What’s going on, Money?  Usually you don’t attempt to bang down my door unless it’s important.”  Travis asked, resting his chin on Wes’ shoulder.

“Jim Hawkes.”  Money said simply.

“Son of a bitch,” Travis growled rolling off Wes and sitting up on the bed.  “He tried to pull something didn’t he?”

“He pulled out,” Money responded, “In the middle of negotiations, said the price was too high, and threatened to start a war.”

Travis cursed again, rolling to the side of his bed, to pick up his boxers from the evening before.  He threw them on under the covers before rolling out of the bed.  Money gave a small comment of waiting in the living room to discuss it more.  Wes flopped on his back as watching Travis as he stormed over to the dresser and pulled out some sweat pants.  Wes chuckled a bit before sitting up.

“So much for breakfast in bed.”  He commented.

The darker man gave him a laugh, trotting over to give him a hard kiss.  He pulled away with a wide grin, but the pissed off look in his blue eyes before leaving the room to talk with his foster brother.  Wes sat there for a few moments before he rolled out of as well.  He strolled into the bathroom, and flicked on the shower.  He took a quick shower, before shaving a getting ready for the day. 

He strolled out of the bedroom in a pair of tight jeans and some shirt of Travis’; he hadn’t felt like slipping on a button up just yet, or putting on a suit for that matter either.  Money and Travis were standing in the kitchen discussing actions to take or deals to make.  Wes knew for sure he wouldn’t be taking Hawks out any time soon.  The man that threatened to start a war, killing him now would for sure start one.  Not that Travis didn’t have the power to handle and win one, it was just an unwanted hassle, Travis grinned when he noticed Wes emerge.

“Thanks for ruining the morning sex,” Wes commented as he gave a light hit to the back of Money’s head when he walked behind him to go to the fridge. 

Money gave him a look but chuckled out “Trust me; it’s what I live for.”  Travis burst out laughing.

\----  ----  ----

Travis saw Money out at around ten that morning.  Travis told his foster brother he would think about what to do with Hawkes, only giving him instructions to make sure the rest of the gang knew to watch their backs, and back off if Hawkes’ gang tried anything.  It didn’t matter if it looked cowardly, as long as war of sorts didn’t break out, Hawkes would take the smallest action as a call for violence.  Money agreed, Hawkes was a whiney, demanding, little thing that liked guns and shooting things.  Honestly, it was rather amazing he managed to play with someone the big boys as long as he had.  He was more a middle man that an actual drug lord.

The darker man plopped down on the couch next to Wes, who was typing away at his laptop.  The blonde’s face was rather neutral as he worked.  Travis frowned; he wondered if Wes was hacking into some government computers as he did from time to time.  He, of course, wasn’t as good at it as Kendall who could breeze through just about any computer system and hardly leave a trace.  Travis didn’t dwell on it too long, turning his attention to the TV as an interesting news story came on.

“Looks like the LAPD found the writer chick I had to you handle a few weeks ago.”  Travis commented lightly.

“I’m surprise it didn’t happen sooner.”  Wes replied glancing up at the screen as it gave an aerial shot of where the woman was found.  “I hadn’t done the best job doing away with the body.”

“You’re worst jobs hiding the body are still better than some I’ve seen, baby.”  Travis said, draping his arms over the back of the couch.  “Still, she’ll be another cold case in a month or two.”  Wes turned to him and smirked for a moment before he turned back to his laptop.  “What’s got your typing away?”

“Old contacts.”  Wes said easily.  

Travis made a sound.  It happened from time to time, and Travis didn’t usually push for the details.  Wes didn’t always take of the jobs they wanted him too, or he didn’t bother with the useless information they were filling him with.  Judging by the way the man was typing back, Travis was pretty sure this is one of the jobs Wes would take.  Wes might be a member for the Fosters Gang, and Travis’ personal hit-man for hire, but he was still a hit man and his own person.  He could take any job he wanted because Wes was always mindful of conflictions.

“So, what do you think we should do about Hawkes?”  Travis asked after a few silent moments.

Wes finished doing what he was doing before he closed his laptop and set it to the side.  He thought for a moment before turning to Travis.  “Killing him now would for sure spark his gang into a revenge-filled rage.”  He said with a shrug.  “They would, of course, immediately come after us, and while we could tear them to shreds, it is still hassle and there would be lose.”

“Not to mention the blow to the reputation.”  Travis said, though it wouldn’t be horrible.  Others wanted Hawkes dead as well, yet it was the first time he pulled out of a deal.  And his threats seemed more like an attempt to show he could play hard ball with everyone else.  “He does need to be put in his place though.” 

Wes just nodded slowly.  “You could always direct his business elsewhere for the time being.”

“Like who?”

“Bello,” Wes said with a grin like he knew something.  “Kill two birds with one stone.”

“What does that mean?”

“Bello’s new bodyguard, the Marine,” Wes said leaning in close.  “He’s an undercover FBI agent.  A rather descent one for his age, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s only a matter of time before he takes Bello down.  All we would have to do is wait for it all to come crashing down.”

“As lovely as that plan sounds, Bello would shot Hawkes on the spot.”  Travis said and that was true.  “Especially if I referred him.  Bello and I get along, solely because he’s seen what I can do and get away with.  Plus when I told him the number of agents you’ve handled, he figured I wasn’t someone to piss off.”

“Yet he still sent that sorry excuse of a hit man to take me out.”

“And you killed him with a stapler.”   Wes smirked at the sentence.   It wasn’t exactly true, and they both knew it, but it was more of a joke between them.  Simply because they had been having a stupid argument about a stapler at the time it happened.  “So should we just show Hawkes had the big boys play.”

Wes raised an eyebrow, before he gave a bit of a grin.  “I don’t see why not.”  He glanced down at his watch.  “Speaking of which we had a meeting an hour with a new client.  You should put on something other than sweats.”

“You going to role-play as me this meeting?”

“Is that you way of telling me to put of a suit?”

Travis made a sound and glanced at the ceiling for a second.  “Yes.”  Wes just rolled his eyes and slapped him in the chest.

\-----  ----- -----

“We’re not actually going to make a deal today are we?”  One of the men they were meeting asked.  He was older and calmer than the other he came with.  The other was a young Hispanic, thinner and a little more energetic.  Travis told Wes their names, but the other really didn’t really care.

Travis chuckled in his seat behind Wes, leaning back in the chair.  “Got to play it safe,” Travis said before reaching for his soda.  “We not just going to make a deal right of the bat.”

“Meet the clientele first, smart.”  The younger grinned out sounded impressed.  He turned to the older to exchange complements and praise.

Wes raised an eyebrow at him, but other than that kept his expression rather neutral, and his poster fixed.  He was there to assess the two and make sure they weren’t undercover agents.  For the most part they were doing a fantastic job and pulling it off, but being ex-CIA Wes could see through them enough.  They were a little too praising and a little too patient.  Not to mention Wes had seen the older one around a few of his targets that later were taken down by the FBI.  So if they were fooling anyone it was Travis.

“Better safe than sorry.”  Travis grinned out.  “Sides’ lunch and Benny’s is lunch at Benny’s.”

Benny was one of Travis’ foster sisters.  She was younger by five years or so, and had been one of Travis’ first few gang members.  However he had pushed for her to stay in school and out of trouble.  She did and got into college, which was funded by Travis’ criminal activities, only to open a restaurant as sort of front.  Travis didn’t use it often, simply because Benny loves the restaurant and it would kill Travis if it got shut down.  The food isn’t half bad, and Benny likes Wes.

“Not to mention, it’s a neutral environment with people.”  Wes pointed out, tapping his finger along the table briefly.  “No one has the advantage.”

“Even ground never hurts.”  The older agreed with a nod and raised his lemonade as a sort of toast.  “To future business.”

Wes and Travis mirror him for briefly before their food arrives.  Benny’s was a burger joint for the most part, though she had healthier choices as well.  The older had a burger with an odd arrangement of toppings, and the young Hispanic had a classic cheeseburger.  Travis of course has his usual, with always made Wes roll his eyes at him, while Wes had some chicken wrap.

“You know, to be honest, we thought we’d be meeting Burton and Taylor.”  The young one said as he swallowed a bite of his burger.  The older gave a nod in agreement.  Travis and Wes hadn’t introduced themselves as Marks or any other name people knew them by.

Wes grinned slightly behind his wrap, if only they knew.  Burton and Traylor had been a nickname the gang had given Travis and Wes since they argued so much, it had started from a comment an old friend of Wes’ let slip.  They had fought it, though Travis did it half-ass because he was Burton, but in the end the names still stuck.  They used it between themselves from time to time to piss each other off.   However, Taylor was the only name the FBI seem to have for Wes, so he didn’t complain too much, still it was weird to hear it coming from someone outside the gang.

Travis laughed before he popped a fry in his mouth.  “Who told you about those nicknames?”

The two men gave a bit of a shrug.  “Hard to remember who said first.  I’ve heard it around.”  The older said and the other made a sound of agreement.  “Marks and his girl are quite a pair.”

Wes growled at the remark, but Travis loud laugher covered it up.  “Watch it, Taylor will shot you.”  Travis said looking at Wes with a spark in his eyes.  Wes stomped on his foot before the darker man could say anything else.   Travis elbowed him, however, causing the two to look at them in confusion.  “Sorry Liz, here is in a mood.”  Travis said pointing at Wes.

Wes gave them a grin and glare.  The younger ducked behind his burger with an ‘oh’ look on his face, while the older just gave a slight raise of an eyebrow.  Clearly Wes was not what he expected at all.  The chatter managed to turn to elsewhere for the most part.  Travis keeping most of the subjects away from anything that gave away the interworks of his operations well enough, the men didn’t push for it much.

Lunch wrapped up as soon as the usual lunch crowd started to pour in.  The two men took some of their food home with happy grins and three down a twenty for tip.  Travis promised to get back to them with an official date and location for an actual deal after they ‘talked’ with Marks.  They sent the two off with grins and waves, before Travis turned to him.  There was no doubt in Wes’ mind they were undercover agents he just couldn’t figure out from what branch.

“So?”  Travis asked simply picking at his fries a bit before he turned to glace at Wes.

“They’re undercover agents, that much I am certain, I just don’t know what branch.”

“CIA, maybe,” Travis teased, smiling at Wes with a fry between his teeth.

Wes rolled his eyes at the gang leader.  “If they were I would don’t think I would be breathing right now.”  Wes said with a grin.  “Doesn’t matter where they’re from, what do you want to about them?”

“Easy, shut them out.”  Travis said as he rose from his seat.  “I have a feeling killing them would cause more trouble than we could handle.  They’ve been trying to take me down for years, and I’m still free.”

“Only because I’ve been keeping them off your ass for five years.”  Wes said rising to his feet as well and buttoning his suit jacket.  Travis waved him off as he headed towards the door.

“Yet they still don’t get the message.”

\----  -----  -----

“Marks finally break your heart beyond repair, Wes?”  Jonelle asked form the front porch without even looking up. 

She was sitting on the porch of a rather run down looking house which Wes had found residence in when he first started out.  Her dark hair was pulled back in high ponytail, a little longer than the last time he saw her.  She was busy hacking at a stick with one of her many pocket knives; Wes was slightly surprised she even heard him.  Wes gave a snort, of course she would know it was him, though, she always knew who it was.  She glanced up and grinned at the sound, looking pleasantly happy to see again, still he could see the slight surprise in her eyes.  Wes had dropped Travis off at the gang’s base and left to come there from their lunch, he was still dressed in suit.  Jonelle hadn’t changed much.  Aged a bit, but she looked good and healthy.  But she stilled to have her love of jeans and leather boots and jackets.

Jonelle and Wes had been meet a few years before Travis ‘successfully stole him away,’ as she put it.  Jonelle came from a family of assassins the branched from the Russian mob years before either of them was born.  She had been around knives, guns, and death her whole life.  The two had meet when they had been hired to take out the same target by two different clients.  After almost trying to kill each other, they had become friends of sorts.

“Yes, after five years, that’s what happened.”  Wes said with a roll of his eyes, shoving his hand in his pockets.  “I came here for to bond over knives and coffee.”

“Smart ass.  You’re lucky I like you, Wes.”  Jonelle said pointing at him with the knife in her hand and grinning. 

Wes grinned and scratched at his chin.  “You look good, Jonelle.  Do anything different?”  He asked like it as a personal visit.

Jonelle laughed, “Platies and spinning,” she answered teasingly.   She jabbed her knife into the wooden porch she was sitting on, placing the stick in her hand beside it, before rising to her feet.  “What really brings you around here?”

“Sutton, he reached out to me.”  Wes said with a shrug.  “Figured I at least owned him to be heard out.”

Jonelle made a sound, dusting herself off a bit.  “Don’t we all in some way.”

She motioned for Wes to follow her into the house, holding the old screen door open for him.  The house hadn’t changed much.  It was still a bit run down, both outside and bit inside.  It was filled with people cleaning or sharpening their tools of their trade, or others nursing at wounds, some of them gave Wes a bit of greeting.  The house was a hot spot for hit-man and assassins alike.  It was secluded on the edge of the city where people didn’t actually really want to know what their neighbors were up to.  There were rooms for people to stay in and rest or heal.  That’s how Sutton wanted it to be.

Not to mention, Sutton helped set people up with jobs, or helped them get the information they need.  Sutton had helped Wes make a name for himself.  Being ex-CIA it wasn’t hard, but back then the CIA had been concerned about Wes selling secrets and being, well, rogue.  Sutton had been a help when he had to lie low.  Wes had lead Jonelle to Sutton, and she had stuck around.

Jonelle tapped on a door lightly, someone grumbled inside and she crossed her arms as she leaned against the door frame.  However after a few moments the door didn’t open and there was no clear shouts for them to come in.  Jonelle huffed, and Wes signaled he could handle the older man.  He gave a sharp pounding on the door.  More grumbling, but no actual reply.

Wes pushed into the door, peeking into the organized room that smelled like insence and an alcohol problem.  Sutton was sitting at the desk with his eyes closes looking like he was in some zen sort of state.  Wes raised an eyebrow as he entered, clicking the two shut behind him; clearly Sutton had picked up some new theology since Wes last saw him.

“You better had a good reason for interrupting my meditation.”  Sutton said sharply suddenly, his voice older and gruffer. 

“I drove all the way out here to see why you reached out for me?”  Wes said easily.  He waves from of the insence smoke out of the way; as Sutton peeked an eye open.  A grin grew on the older man’s lips as he glanced at Wes.  “When you get into all the burning sticks and meditation.”

“It’s for relaxation, Wes.”  Sutton said with a bit of glare.  “Maybe you should try it if half the stuff I hear about Marks and you get into with each other is true.”

“I think I’ll stick to cleaning and maintaining my weapons.”  Wes said with a grin as Sutton rose and rounded the desk to no doubt give him a slap on the arm along with a handshake.  “It’s more intimating, and I’m already called ‘Liz’ by half of the officers of the gang.”  Wes held out his hand for Sutton.  “Thanks for that.”

Sutton clasped his hand firmly and pulled him in for a quick hug, surprised Wes a bit, giving him a sharp pat on the back and releasing him.  Sutton just grinned before he made his way back around his desk.  He plopped down back in his chair before he motioned for Wes to do the same.  Wes easily slid into the chair, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“So, why’d you contact me?”  Wes asked.

“I’ve got a hit I don’t think you would pass up.”  Sutton said leaning back in his chair to grab a folder.  “The pay is good for the hit.”  He said tossing the folder at Wes who snatched it up.  “They asked for the best, and I couldn’t think of anyone better.”

Wes made a slightly impressed sounded at the offer.  It was five hits, and the pay was easily that of something that was close to a massacre.  The kill window as a week or so away, small but doable, so there was still time to think.  Not to mention, they were heads of a gang just a little south of them that had been giving the Fosters Gang some trouble.  The gang would crumble under the lack of leadership, and if it was done right, a rival gang could easily snatch up the territory.  Of course with that information, Travis could make a move and gain some territory and cripple the attempt.  Even if Wes didn’t take the job it was still a valuable piece of information to hand off to Travis.

“Who’s it from?”  Wes asked.

“You know I don’t ask,” Sutton said with a knowing grin.  “So you taking it?”

“Let me think it over some.”  Wes said closing the folder and handing it back to Sutton.  “Run it by some things,” being a personal hit man to a gang leader or drug lord was difficult.  If Wes wasn’t careful it could screw it all up, he couldn’t get paid, or it could start a conflict.  “I’ll contact you by the end of the week with my answer.” 

“I get my usual 30 percent if you take it.”  Sutton said with a grin as Wes stood. 

“Of course.”  Wes said with a wave as he made his way to the door.  “I’ll be in contact.”  Wes said before he slipped out of the door and out of the house.  Jonelle told him to they should get coffee sometime.

\-----  -----  -----

The Fosters Gang’s base wasn’t exactly overly glamorous.  Nothing more than some old storage warehouse Travis and Money had managed to buy when the market was bad.  It was big and secluded, had a nice little lobby office area if someone wandered in on accident.  Travis usually stuck the younger members out there, and treated it more like a paying job.  Which kept cops at bay as well; it looked like a legitimate business, but also because they could call to give some warning.  He knew it wasn’t exactly busy or exciting, but he stuck them there, told them to hit the books.  Travis didn’t let them truly join until they were eighteen or out of high school.  Upstairs is a nice office area, which is more of half office, half cooled hang out space.  The empty warehouse is used for a variety of different things; he had installed a shooting range, which thanks to some of Wes contacts was an actually working one.  There was an area to work on cars or other vehicles, and of course, some of storage.

It kept the younger members who were too trigger happy or violence thirsty off the streets.   Which was a good thing, because they weren’t starting things, and especially with Hawkes starting to start something.  The place was important to him, because it was really sort of a home for the people within his gang.  They were usually foster kids, or kids who didn’t have the best lives growing up.   Unlike other gang leaders, Travis makes it a point to care about everyone in his gang as much as he can.  He’ll work and bother them about homework, or chatter about useless things like cars.  To his gang he’s not exactly intimidating, he is, but his leadership is not based on fear.  Wes, he knows for sure, scares the pants off some people.  However, Wes is more of drill sergeant, and keeps everyone’s shooting skills sharp, but he’s still good to them as well.  Not to mention he’s calmer around Travis and way less intimidating when he’s cuddled up beside him.

Travis was helping Money fix Benny’s car, it had been sputtering and clunking, when he heard the buzzer of the door from the lobby.  “Thought you stood us up, Taylor,” Someone called suddenly.  Travis peeked out from under the trunk to find Wes strolling in and giving them an evil look and a slight shoved with the words “I had business to attend to” as he strolled past.  He had clearly gone home and changed out of his suit, opting for the jeans and a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

He strolled over towards Travis, who was being shoved by Money because he was suddenly in the way.   Wes grinned as he stopped between two tool carts, tossing a towel at Travis as he neared.  The look on his face made Travis childishly want to touch and annoy him with his grimy hands, however he controlled himself and wiped his hands off.

“So, how was Sutton?”  Travis asked, leaving out the growl of ‘what did he want’ lying low.

“Meditative,” Wes said after a moment of thought, “but otherwise the same.”  Wes said with a bit of grin.  “He had a nice job for me, pays fantastic for what it’s asking.”

“What is that?”  Travis asked tossing the two down and the cart to Wes’s left. 

The ex-agent made a face at the action before he spoke.  “The five heads of La Colombina.”  He said quietly.  Travis raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms; that was a bold order.  Wes just nodded at his reaction; he knew what Travis was thinking.  “It leaves some valuable territory open to the south of us.”

Territory Travis could easily snatch up for his business, not to mention some fresh faces.  Not exactly Foster care kids, but certainly kids he could still connect with not having much and being troubled.  It wouldn’t be a smooth transference that was for sure, even if he ordered the kill himself.  La Colombina members would resist, but their lack of command would leave them with little.  Travis heard Money make a rather impressed sound behind him; clearly he had been listening in as well.

“Do you know who ordered it?”  Money asked, and it was a good question. 

The job went through another party, either means the people who ordered it wanted it to be kept quiet or someone didn’t want to be linked to the order.  Though to be fair, few gangs and less powerful cartels actually have assassins of their own.  Travis didn’t exactly expect Wes to come up with a name, he had meet Sutton and he knew how the man’s business worked.

Wes shook he’s head.  “I have to handle it delicately if I take it too.”

“You haven’t take it yet?”  Travis asked surprised.

The grin on his partner’s lips was deadly.  “I told Sutton I’d think it over and run it by some things, but I’d give him my answer by the end of the week.”  Wes crossed his arms.  “It’s compromising information on a smart move, not to mention something I have to make sure in no way trails back here so people don’t get pissy.”

There was no arguing that point.  It could be a shit storm of problems for a lot of different people if this wasn’t happening.   It’s a good move with great expansion.  It would have to look like it was just chance that Travis managed to snatch things up from a different gang, and that wouldn’t be easy.  It was something he would have to sit down and plan.  There was still time to do such, and if Wes was bringing this to him, he knew the value of a move like this for them.

 “We could make this work for us.”  Money said as he strolled over to them. 

“Yeah, we could.”  Travis said the gears in his brain turning.  Timing would have to be everything, and it would have to look like two separate moves.  If Travis’ men attacked some territories before and during the hit, or maybe even shortly after if they were careful, it could look like it was just chance.  Again it was something that would take some planning, and arranging, not to mention a whole lot of luck in their favor.  “What’s the kill window?”

Wes smirked at the words.

\-----  -----  -----

Sometimes Travis wished Wes wasn’t so good at breaking into places.  Of course the guy was used to be a freaking _spy_ , picking locks and shutting off alarms was a walk in the park in comparison to some the shit he had done.  It wasn’t a bad thing, came in handy sometimes.  Yet, Travis kind of liked picking locks, he had been a natural ever since a foster brother in his tenth foster him taught him how to pick locks and hot wire cars.  

It was the argument that had filled Wes’ car on the drive to Jim Hawkes’ house in the late evening.  By some miracle Wes had agreed to let Travis pick the lock to Hawkes’s home after a lot of persuading and some bribing.  Though Travis was pretty sure he won the argument by kissing Wes senseless when he parked the car.  Wes had rolled his eyes at the whole thing, but he was getting at least a week of Travis feeding him grapes or something like that.

Wes parked his car a few blocks away from Hawkes’ home, carefully parking so it’s just out of sight, grabbing and hiding what he needed from the trunk.  He was packing two SR40 pistols under his arms, using his dark coat to cover it.  He shoved a knife in a hoister on his belt.  He tossed a leather messenger that was filled with tools to help them at Travis. The darker man grunted slightly at the wait, but slung it over his shoulder.    Wes locked the car and threaded his fingers with Travis letting him lead the way to the house.

They had figured they looked like some harmless couple strolling through a neighborhood.  If anyone asked or stopped them to wonder about what they were doing, they’re cover was Travis was a writer.  Wes had drafted some things on the laptop they had with them to be thorough.  However, Wes had a feeling no one was going to say anything.  It might be a rich neighborhood, but Hawkes was there, and residence might have found it a bit wise to turn the other way.   That at it was eight-thirty in the evening when they were strolling through, people were probably at events or dinners, or unwinding from the day to care what was going on outside.

It took them a little over ten minutes to reach Hawkes’ house.  The gate opened easily enough, and the two slide in behind the safety of the fence. Travis knew for fact that Hawkes only had an alarm system inside his house; he was too much of an annoyance for anyone to really waste their time hiring someone to take him out.  The guy honestly didn’t even have cameras because he didn’t see the point.   It was currently a nice benefit to their operation.  Wes led Travis to the side door on the garage, letting him slide in and pick it.

The lock turned after a minute of fiddling with it to get it just right.  Wes pushed in silently, finding Hawkes’s garage empty, meaning he was out, either it was for fun or business Travis didn’t care.  The door to connecting the garage to the house was unlocked as Wes seemed to expect.  He tore into the hallway, nothing seemed to go off which meant Hawkes was at least smart enough to get a silent alarm, attacking the alarm pad in the hallway there.   Wes held a hand up for Travis to wait before he disappeared through the house for a quick sweep.

“Likes like Hawkes doesn’t seem care too much if someone tries to rob him.”  Wes said as he rounded the corner and motioned for Travis to join him.

“There were better house on the way here.”  Travis said with a grin and there had been.  “Trust me; this would be one of the last houses to be targeted for a robbery by some mindless crooks.”  Travis grinned.  “If course, Hawkes isn’t the brightest crayon in the box either, baby.”

Wes snorted at the comment.  Travis tossed him the messenger bag, which Wes quickly dug through for the laptop and the USB.  “Well, let’s dig up some dirt.” 

Travis grinned as he followed Wes to what Hawkes’s office.  Wes flicked the man’s computer on and working his way into it.  It wasn’t long before he found everything they needed.  A ledger of clients, dealers and users alike.  Some names of some dirty cops Hawkes has somehow managed to score.  There was some shipment dates and deals on a calendar as well as some names of suppliers form off shores.  Wes gave a slightly impressed whistle at what he found.  Hawkes had managed to make a bit of an organization for himself; he was just too stupid to run it efficiently.

While Wes copied everything he found to a flash drive and did some more digging, Travis did some snooping around.  Looking for any other dirt they could use on the man to get him to behave and release who is Alpha in their whole situation.  Travis doesn’t find much, just some money stashed away, which he off course took for his troubles, it wasn’t like Hawkes would call the cops.  Most of the shit in his house was illegally obtained.  Not to mention he was a wanted drug dealer and gang leader.  LAPD would roll in the chance to arrest him.  Not that they would be just has happy, if not more to get Travis in cuffs.

An hour passed before there was really nothing left for them to do other than sit and wait around for Hawkes to come home.  Travis plopped down in a comfortable arm chair as Wes carefully glanced out windows.  He made the comment that it felt a bit like a being in a Bond movie, it which Wes rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at him.

It was around eleven when Hawkes finally rolled in.  Wes vanished into the shadows of the kitchen, as someone shoved their key into the front door and shoved it open.  A sigh came, and Travis was rather happy to hear there wasn’t company.  It meant they didn’t have to frighten some girl with issues she had no business in knowing or dealing with.  Hawkes flicked on some lights and jumped at the sight of Travis in his chair.  He instantly reached for his gun.

“Don’t even think about Hawkes,” Wes hissed surging forward and pressing a pistol to the man’s head.  “I won’t hesitate to put a bullet through your brain if you do.”

Hawkes turned to glare slightly at Wes, before he slowly moved his hand away from his gun and held his hands out.  “Here to kill me I take it.”  Hawkes grinned like he thought he was so smart.  “You know my gang has orders to pursue my rivals should something happen to me.”

“We’re not here to kill you, Jim.”  Travis said resting his feet on the coffee table in the living room.  “Though Wes won’t hesitate if you try to kill me.”

“Why are you here then?”  Hawkes growled out.

Travis gave a nod to Wes to drop the gun and take a step back, which the lighter man did so instantly, but still coiled and watching the other. “I’m here to show you how the big boys play, I just brought Wes along to make sure you didn’t get trigger happy.”

“I know how the big boys play, Marks.”  Hawkes said with a cocky smirk that seemed to make Wes growl.  “And last I checked, they don’t break into houses.”

“First off Hawkes, you’ve been playing college level, not professional.  And even if you somehow managed to wiggle your way into professional it sure as well wasn’t first string.”  Travis said straightening up in the chair.  “You have no idea how the big boys play.  Second, breaking and entering is how I make sure people know who’s in charge.  It’s all about intimidation, it just happens to be how I play.”  Travis said as he rose from the chair.

“Oh that’s rich.”

“You aren’t exactly calling the shots right now, hot shot.”  Wes cut in quickly, giving Hawkes a smirk.  Hawkes glared at Wes in return.

“We slipped into your house and waited for _you_.  I have to admit, I’m surprised you haven’t peed yourself. ” Travis grinned out as he strolled closer.  “Your little threats about a war pale in comparison to this.  You know, some of the big names know not to mess with me, and if they don’t I have my methods.”  Travis said giving a glance towards Wes who had gone rather stony face again.  “So you can shut your trap about knowing how the big boys play because you’re nowhere close.  You’re just an annoyance who doesn’t know his place.”

“I know my place.”  Hawkes said.

“No you really don’t.”  Travis shook his head.  “If you did you wouldn’t have backed out of the deal I gave you.  You wouldn’t have given hollow threats to start a blood bath.”  Hawkes growled, at least Travis knew he was right.  “So you can either go play with people more your level or you smart up, be the submissive little bitch I’m surprised you haven’t been made into yet and work your way up to big leagues.”

“ _Fine_.”  Hawkes growled out.  “What do you want, Marks?”

“Good boy,” Travis grinned out.  “I want you to take the deal you backed out of.  No going back, because it’s the best deal you’re going to get.”  Travis said walking closer to Hawkes in the hallway.  His fished the little business card out of his pocket, fiddling with it in his hands before holding it out for Hawkes to take.  He does so with a glare.  Travis grinned brightly and showed his hands into his pockets.  “Now, here’s the plan, you meet us within that time window on that date, at that location and your take the deal.  If you miss of course, I’ll excuse it, it’s a small window and traffic can be a pain, and we’ll just give you another time and place.  Miss it a second time, well, then I might misplace this USB with some compromising information for you and your clients.”  Travis pulled out the USB from his other pocket and grinned wickedly so Hawkes didn’t think he was bluffing.  “Of course, I don’t know who will pick up or if anyone will, but there is just that possibility.  I’ll still give you another card and one more chance, of course.  However you miss it a third time, there are no more cards, or chances, just a bullet and early funeral.”  Travis peeked at Wes; finding him staring at him with a slight arousal in his eyes.  “Understand?”

Hawkes swallowed and gave a weak glare before he took the card form Travis’ fingers.  “Yes,” He breathed out.

Travis gave him a loud clap on the shoulder before collecting their things and motioning for Wes to follow.  Wes doesn’t hesitate, but he watched Hawkes as he slip out the front door, the man seemed to be sunned in place.  Travis laughs as they reach the end of Hawkes’ driveway.  They clear the gate and making it a couple blocks down before Wes grabs the collar of his jacket and pulls Travis towards him, crashing their lips together.  Wes’ body immediately flourishes against Travis’, they both moan Wes managed to slide his tongue in between Travis lips.  Travis didn’t let him have a victory so easily, and they pull away panting.

“Think you could make it home?”  Wes asked with a playful grin.

“No, the car, maybe.”

“Let’s find out.”  Wes said as he peeled his body away from Travis and started back for the car.  Travis chuckled and followed after him.

They hardly made it to the car.

 


End file.
